2009-12-17: Hair Raising



Date: December 17, 2009


A job interview goes wrong for one and very right for another.

"Hair Raising"

Building 26

Time tends to run together into a meaningless blur when one is kept under heavy sedation. The long-term effects have been unpleasant on those still held indefinitely by Alpha Protocol. One's looks and personal hygeine does suffer and Chava's is no exception. Since that incident where Nicholas tried to interrogate her, she's been under a little extra scrutiny. As well as the examinations of the government's labs.

On this fine December day for those that are not guests of the government, Chava's among those selected for another round of poking and prodding. In order to get her to shuffle on her own steam (With some assistance), the drugs have had to be toned down some. So here we are, outside of the scenic human resources department with Chava in her attractive orange jumpsuit and drug pack. A hazey expression is in her eyes while that little urge to fight is building up again within.

From behind a one way mirror, some of the superiors of Alpha Protocol are surveying the woman in her jumpsuit. Even with an unlimited budget there's an accounting department that keeps track of everything and how much it costs. Chava? Well this little eco-terrorist is racking up a bill that's getting to astronomical proportions. So, in the interest of getting a little something back from her, they've devised a plan. It's called, a job interview.

Cody was supplied with a folder and given the bare basics of the case. Her own superiors had explained in detail that this new mission was of the utmost importance to the President and that it would either make or break her career. She was definitely going to make it. After flipping through a few of the details, she had prepared herself sufficiently and made herself ready. This is how we've come to find her dressed in a Madonna-esque PVC catsuit with her combat boots.

The door to the human resources department opens and she stalks through. "Miss Chava Rosenberg." Then the woman says in a rather monotonous voice. "How are you today? Comfortable, I hope?"

Chava's head lolls on her neck, more than just a little. There's a unique flexibility that comes with the drugs. Tilting her head back, a rather dazed yet imperious expression is cast at Cody, along with an attempt to sneer. "Nice suit," she manages to slur as the drugs taper off just enough for her to be coherent. (Mostly.) "Drop the act, you don't give a damn if I'm comfo.. co.. whatever." A word with so many syllables is apparently difficult to say in this state. She lurches forward a little, trying to maintain her balance.

A smile. A very gracious smile is the treat that Chava receives for her slurred words and attempt to be witty. "You're right, I don't really care. It's just part of the scripting." Cody says with a little bit more warmth in her voice. "So with the act dropped, how about you just answer my questions and we'll get this overwith and you can go back to whatever it was you were doing before. Okay?" The plain metal stool is pulled up and the PVC clad woman sits down across from the prisoner.

Chava eyes Cody and her non-plant based getup and curls her lip. "I was wasting away, thanks to you.." An expression that speaks of a mental struggle crosses her features as she manages to get out, "Fascist pigs." She stays in place as internally, she's trying to gather her strength to make another effort at grabbing for her power. "Die in the pollution you create." Frustration is setting in as usual in a situation like this. She's used to sticking it to the man with actions, not words.

The words are different, but the passion of a zealot is something that Cody's been witness to time and time again. To Cody, Chava is just another terrorist using her strengths to place fear into innocent people to get what she wants. Leaning in closer, she smiles a little at the woman and narrows her eyes. "You can call me Cody. Now, how about we get to those questions… Hmmm? First of all, give me your name." It doesn't matter that she knows it already, it's a matter of exerting a little bit of power.

"Pig," Chava spits out, refusing to refer to Cody by the offered name. Her eyes roll back as she steadies herself in place. Obviously, Nicholas Drake was too soft on her and this Government Tool was sent in. "Choke on an SUV tailpipe," she snaps, "you whore." It doesn't appear that cooperating is on her agenda. "..don't recog..rec..recognize your authority."

"Very well, I'll call you Pig." Cody replies with the slight hint of amusement. "So, Pig, how about we get to business? Tell me.. Why is it that you think you are here?" The woman really is hoping that she'll get more of a fight out of the terrorist. Checking her watch, she counts down the amount of time she figures that the solution would take to wear down sufficiently for a good conversation. Or smoething like that.

"You're the government pig. Tool of the regime," Chava says, keeping up the slurring words for as long as she can fake it. She thinks she can grasp at her power, or at least there's a teasing flicker of it. Of course, that could be her imagination going haywire. "Fascist state, keeping me from my God given duty."

"God given duty? What is that exactly?" Recognizing a little bit of the strain the woman is under, Cody checks her watch again. "Don't bother with pretending to still be under the influence of the sedatives… With your weight and the time you've been given to recover it should be out of your system by now. Trust me, I'm well aware of how long they should last." There's the little flicker of a paper across the room and this causes the woman in PVC to smile just a little.

Damn. Looks like this Cody is harder to pull one over on than Drake was. Chava looks up and straight across at Cody, a hard glint in her eyes. As for her God given duty? No verbal answer is given. Instead, the floor beneath Cody's chair gives a shudder and cracks apart. A particularly thorny rose bush springs up through the floor. It's not with the normal explosive force, but after months of sedation, drugs and lack of use, it does the trick well enough.

Though surprised by the sudden lift from the floor by the rose bush, Cody was somewhat prepared for such shenanigans. At the first sign of shuddering, she leaps forward onto the prisoner and tackles her to the floor. Something that just might be uncomfortable to the woman since she's handcuffed to her chair. A small smile crosses the lips of the hunter as she stares into the eyes of her prisoner. In Hebrew, she murmurs just a little too softly for the men behind the glass to hear. "<Yahweh does not give this power, my misguided friend.>" Then her hand slowly reaches to a pocket behind her to produce a can of Raid. "<Do you know what this does when it hits you in the eye and you do not get proper attention?>"

Chava wasn't exactly expecting to be tackled while handcuffed to her chair. Normally she's tasered or sprayed in the face, but not with Raid. Her eyes narrow up at Cody as the woman dares to speak to her in Hebrew. <You know nothing! Yahweh has given me the power to protect the environment!> Behind the pair, the rose bush thrashes, and fires off its thorns. The can of Raid is eyed with no shortage of malice and Chava's not content to just lay there. While handcuffed, she can bring her head foreward in a sharp motion, which she does. In an effort to give a good old fashioned head butt.

When Chava's head shoots forward, the thin lines of Cody's eyebrows suddenly go as rigid as small metal spikes and stand directly forward on her face. With a thick schlick sound, they embed themselves into the terrorist's forehead, penetrating the bone. The fire of thorns does hit the warden of the moment in the back, ripping into the PVC suit and bury into her back. The protection of the plastic was minimal, but at least it prevented them from being more of a nuisance. The can of raid as been dropped for the moment as the two women stare into each others eyes. "<You will answer for your crimes under the commandments of God. Should you fail to answer, the probes in your skull will dig deeper and kill you. Do you understand?>"

Okay, now, that's something new, and quite… painful. Even if the term is woefully inadequate. Chava's eyes widen as she stares into Cody's. "<You first,>" she spits out, not even trying to move. Instead, she's focusing on trying to use the rose bush for further attacks. Yet only succeeds in making it sprout forth buds that unwind and spring open into hearty red blooms. That.. wasn't quite what she was aiming for. Perhaps it might be due to the fact that there are SPIKES OF HAIR digging into her face. Hair? Seriously. What the Hell! "I have nothing to answer for!"

"<Then may Yahweh have mercy on your everlasting soul.>" It takes only one of the eyebrow spikes to grow forward and penetrate the woman's skull, piercing her brain. Then all of them fall from Cody's face. Taking a moment to gather herself up and gaze down upon the woman on the floor staring up at her, she gives a knowing smirk as the two thin lines grow back in their normal position with normal texture. The hair that had penetrated the prisoner turns limp and back to its normal form the moment it is separated from its original owner and some of it falls away from the wounds. One hand is used to smooth over the woman's face, brushing the rest of it away before she stands and turns toward the glass window. "You'll need a medic for this one."

As Cody exits the room, the men behind the glass turn toward each other and nod. "She'll do, get the paperwork for her transfer started."

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